Reasons

Sometimes, regardless of our intentions, things just don’t go to plan.

I made a commitment to a group of strangers a couple of weeks ago. I committed to writing something every day for 30 days and posting it online.

It was a commitment I made without any real purpose behind it. I enjoy writing. I find a clarity to putting my thoughts down in words. But I have no real desire for my writing to be anything more than something just for me. Nonetheless, having people that you have made a commitment to brings an accountability that often makes the difference between doing something and not doing something.

Today, as with every day since the start of this writing journey, my intention was to write at the start of the day.

However the day started slightly unusually and I couldn’t write first thing. Then I got a message from a good friend who I haven’t seen for a couple of months who wanted to drop in to see me this morning. It was great to see him. Over the past couple of years he has become a really close friend. It was a pleasure spending time with him. But by the time he left it was early afternoon.

I had several documents that I had to read before a meeting scheduled for 4pm and so I had no time to write anything this afternoon. My meeting went on until 7pm and then after coming home and preparing and eating food with my family we all sat together watching a comedy programme until 10pm. It made a delightful change to sit together and laugh together.

I have steadfastly resisted letting a day go by when I didn’t write something. I have wanted to make sure that I did what I have committed to doing, regardless of how arbitrary the reason is for doing it.

And I don’t want to lose the unbroken streak now. Which is why, at 10.30pm I am writing this.

But at the same time there is nothing that I would change about my day. The time spent with my friend. The time spent with my family. Both are far more important than an arbitrary commitment to writing.

But oddly, the commitment to writing is important too. Not because the writing itself matters, but because the commitment made to a group of strangers who, over the past two weeks or so have become more than strangers – who have been supportive and encouraging and wise and interesting and so much more – matters.

Often the reason we do things isn’t obvious at first. Often we have no idea where things will lead or why they pan out the way they do. But just because a journey doesn’t end up where you think it will doesn’t make the journey a waste of time.

Often it is the most important thing of all.